Returning to Earth: Healing When the World Doesn’t Love You Back

A note on getting your groove back

Healing through Earth & Color

A few months ago, I noticed spirit nudging me, poking at my mind in quiet moments, asking me to reflect on relationships—especially the ones that hurt, the ones that felt hollow, and the ones that once held meaning but now only echo. Friendships, work dynamics, even the subtle tensions in day-to-day connections began surfacing with a quiet insistence that couldn’t be ignored.

I found myself crestfallen over the weight of it all, carrying the invisible burden of being the “reliable one,” the “productive one,” the person who gets things done with precision and verve. It’s not the work that bothers me—I thrive in the doing. It’s the unspoken expectation that my desk is always open, that my time is infinitely available because I don’t complain. The assumption is that I must be free because I’m efficient. The imbalance, the taking-for-granted, chips away at my soul.

Friendships felt no lighter. I do not micromanage relationships or perform affection-baiting to keep people close. I ebb and flow, and I disappear when I need to refill my well. I give others the space I need myself. But to some, this is offensive. And so, I’m often met with silence, resentment, or the slow ghosting of those who want more access than I’m able—or willing—to give. I started asking myself: Why does this hurt so much? Why do I feel invisible in rooms I’ve helped fill?

And then I remembered something: a moment from childhood. Recess. Girls clustered together on the grass. Boys tossing footballs. And me—neither here nor there—flitting between groups, never really belonging, looking down at the blacktop for comfort. I’d trace cracks in the pavement, connect with a stray dead leaf from a nearby tree. That leaf saw me. The Earth saw me. Nature didn’t punish me for being gay. It didn’t need me to perform. It just accepted me. And so I’ve always returned to it when I need to feel whole.

That’s when the color Brown began whispering: Ground Thyself.

🌿 Brown: Ground Thyself

Brown brought me back to the Earth—not just physically, but energetically. I raked the dead debris in my backyard to clear the space and reconnect, especially after an ocular migraine episode. To find stability again when my soul felt shaken by human relationships. Brown reminded me that my worth isn’t defined by others' expectations or projections. My body, my breath, my being—all belong to the Earth, which holds me without judgment.

When the world feels like it’s moving too fast or too far from who you are, Brown invites you to return. To place your hands in the soil. To feel the pulse of the planet beneath your feet. You are here. You are held. You are enough.

💜 Lavender: Me, Myself & I

With this grounding came clarity: I needed boundaries. And so I planted lavender.

Lavender isn’t aggressive—it’s soft yet firm. It doesn’t yell; it simply is. Its message is clear: Me, Myself, and I. I began to understand that setting boundaries isn’t about shutting people out, but letting myself in unfiltered, under whatever conditions my body, mind, and soul are facing currently, regardless of how much money is in the bank, what my hair is doing for the day, or if it’s all been done before.

I’ve spent so much of my life bending, accommodating, and making room for others - mentally, emotionally, and physically. But what about me? What about the space I need? The rest I crave? Lavender helped me recognize the sacredness of my solitude. It allowed me to honor my rhythms and stop apologizing for how I ebb and flow. I don’t owe anyone constant performance. I don’t owe anyone my depletion.

Lavender became my energetic perimeter, blooming softly around my spirit.

❤️ Dahlia: Healing Unrequited Love

And then there was the ache I didn’t want to name: the feeling of being unloved. Or rather, the feeling of loving in ways that weren’t returned. Dahlia brought that wound to light.

So I bought a dahlia and placed it where I could see it every day. It became a living altar for the unspoken grief I carried—for ex-lovers, for friendships that ghosted, for the version of myself I used to mold just to be accepted. Dahlia doesn’t offer quick fixes. It holds space for grief and beauty. It tells me I can bloom even in the face of rejection. Even when I feel invisible. Even when I’m not chosen.

Dahlia reminds me: You are love. You don’t need someone else to name you worthy.

☮️ A Ritual of Return

So here I am—raking the soil, tending my lavender, watching my dahlia bloom. I’m not looking for external validation anymore. I’m looking inward. Rooting deeper. Setting boundaries. Healing what’s been unreciprocated with the kind of love I once gave away too freely.

If the world doesn’t love you back, love yourself anyway. If friendships dissolve, let nature fill the space. If work doesn’t see your effort, see yourself clearly.

You are alive because the Earth is alive. That’s what matters. Not your job title, not your follower count, not how much emotional labor you do for others.

You belong—not because someone tells you so—but because you are.